


Backing Down

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: It was supposed to be porn, but then it was banter — and now it’s porn again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Backing Down

Title: Backing Down  
Author: Impertinence  
Rating: Adult  
Spoilers: Through “Hell House”  
Notes: It was supposed to be porn, but then it was banter—and now it’s porn again.  
Warning: Incest, adult situations.  
Word Count: around 1500  
  
  
  
|~|~|  
  
“Seriously though, superglue? That’s a new low.” Dean flexed his hand irritably. “What if I dropped my gun, huh? What then?”  
  
“Then you might die,” Sam said cheerfully, “and I’d never have to listen to Metallica agai-- _ow!_ ”  
  
“Oh, sorry, was that your arm?” Dean asked innocently. “Complete accident, I swear.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Sam accused, but he let it rest.  
  
Silence reigned for a few minutes, broken only by the sounds of the town in the background. Sam let himself relax a bit; the threat was gone, and it certainly hadn’t been the worst they’d ever faced.  
  
“So,” Dean said finally, “You backed out on a dare.”  
  
“I did not! We never agreed to play.”  
  
“Pranks count.”  
  
“No, they don’t.”  
  
“Yeah they do.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Dean paused. “I can kick your ass.”  
  
Unfortunately for Sam, it was true. “That’s fighting dirty.”  
  
“Oh, right, and super-gluing my hand isn’t? Come on, Sammy. It hasn’t been so long that you’re forgotten what happens to you if you turn down a dare.”  
  
Damn straight he remembered—that was why he was avoiding the topic. “Dean…”  
  
“You know the rules.” A hand crept up his arm, tickling. Teasing. And just like that, Sam’s relaxation vanished.  
  
“The touchy-feely stuff is not going to win you any favors,” he informed his brother flatly.   
  
“That’s not what happened last time.”  
  
“Last time, I was _five._ ”  
  
“And I was nine, and thus old enough to get whipped by dad when he found us playin’ doctor,” Dean reminded him. “C’mon, please? You’re the one who agreed to play!”  
  
“Well, sorry, but you’ve already seen my dick,” Sam said flatly. “Don’t know why you’d want to see it again.”  
  
Dean pursed his lips and cocked his head as though he was seriously considering the prospect. For a second Sam figured he was in the clear—but then he found himself slammed flat against the picnic table, Dean’s face in his.  
  
“Over the years,” Dean said conversationally, “We’ve played doctor, beat each other up, and even slept together—literally, anyway. In fact, I think I’ve had contact with every single one of your body parts…except one.”  
  
“Your point?” Sam didn’t even bother fighting him; Dean had leverage and several years of experience on him.   
  
“My point,” Dean said, grinning, “Is that I’ve never kissed you.”  
  
Sam grew completely, utterly still. “You know? I was actually gonna take the dare,” he said hastily. “But those rats interfered, so I couldn’t.”  
  
“What’s wrong, Sam? Scared?”  
  
“I’m not scared of a damn thing!” Screw this. Sam arched his back and jerked his legs down, bucking his hips to throw Dean off.  
  
Except it didn’t work, and Sam’s rapidly disintegrating calm was quickly turning into full-blown panic. “Look, just because you didn’t get to kill anything on this job doesn’t mean you can push me into doing something that neither of us wants!”  
  
“Maybe you’re right.” Dean’s grip on his shirt front loosened and he stepped off of Sam’s toes, giving him room to stand up.   
  
Sam did so, awkwardly. “Now, can we just—“  
  
_Forget about this whole thing_ was on the tip of his tongue, but before he had a chance to say it, Dean’s mouth literally crashed into his.  
  
“Mmph!” Sam’s hands came up to push Dean away, but Dean moved faster; somehow, he managed to secure Sam’s arms behind him without even breaking their mouths apart.  
  
The kiss lasted—Jesus, he didn’t even know. But when Dean pulled back, he told himself that it was the oxygen deprivation that made him gasp, and the leftover adrenalin that made him hard. That was all.  
  
His brother’s lips were full and red. Had he been kissing him back? He couldn’t remember…  
  
“What the hell was that?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “You backed down, man.”  
  
“So that gives you the right to kiss me?” Sam’s hand came up to his own lips and he wiped them angrily. “You’re sick, dude.”  
  
But it was like he hadn’t even said a word. Dean trailed a finger down his cheek, and even though he could move now, he didn’t.  
  
“You’ve got soot all over your face,” he said softly. “That itching powder didn’t wreck your skin too much, did it?”  
  
It was Dean all over, giving him yet another reason to want to kick his ass. “I’ve got huge red marks from scratching.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes flickered down, lingering on Sam’s hard-on for way longer than was needed. Especially given that his gaze had its usual effect, making him even harder. “Sorry ‘bout that. You’re skin’s so pretty, it’s a wonder the powder didn’t kill you.”  
  
“Look, I’m getting splinters in my ass. Can you please just let me up?”  
  
“Could put something else in your ass.” Now Dean’s hand was on his bicep, moving down, and _damned_ if Sam wasn’t ready to kick his ass.  
  
Or come in his own pants. It was a toss-up, really.  
  
“I wanna see those red marks you’re talkin’ about.” Dean grinned and went for the buttons on Sam’s shirt.  
  
Yeah, okay, enough was enough. Sam pushed Dean away, using the leverage to scoot along the picnic table until he was in the middle.  
  
Dean was supposed to step away. Instead he grunted, “Oh, you _sunnuvabitch_!” before jumping on the picnic table, crashing into Sam, and sending them both flying off the other end.  
  
They landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Before Dean had a chance to gain the advantage Sam pinned him down, throwing a leg across his hips, grinning triumphantly.  
  
And then he froze—because he wasn’t the only one currently sporting a stiffy.  
  
Dean shrugged unapologetically. “What can I say? You’re a hell of a kisser.”  
  
And then he was _squirming,_ and all the thoughts of _Dean_ and _wrong_ and _nerds close by_ fled his head, to be replaced by the most simple impulse he’d ever had.  
  
It was like what he’d felt with Jess on those nights when it had been wild and fast and unplanned, except…not. It was like before—right before he’d left, when they were both younger and much more reckless.  
  
It was like the time Dean had pinned him to the side of a barn and given him a hand job after the necromancer in Kentucky.  
  
Suddenly, Sam realized that he wanted that again.  
  
This time it was he who kissed Dean—not that Dean was really fighting him. In fact, he was a pretty active participant, grabbing the back of his neck and grinding into him aggressively. Their lips slid together and their mouths opened, and suddenly Sam was tasting him, tasting _Dean,_ in a way that he hadn’t dared to even back when he’d have been stupid enough to give it a try.  
  
Except that apparently, he was stupid enough now, too.  
  
Jeans were unzipped and hands gripped one another, and in a blur of tongue and skin and pure unbridled want, Sam rolled over onto his side and let go. Their legs were tangled together, their groins thrusting against one another—and the hand that wasn’t holding the other’s dick was interlaced with trembling fingers.  
  
They didn’t talk, didn’t stop kissing at all except to breathe. There was dirt all over the place and blades of grass prickled Sam’s cheek, but he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not any more.   
  
Then the orgasm that had been building since the second Dean laid a hand on him finally came, and he was jerked and shuddering, kissing Dean even more frantically to keep from crying out. He barely even noticed that Dean was doing the same.  
  
They were far away from the fire, but somehow, sparks were still dancing in front of Sam’s eyes. It didn’t bother him as much as it should’ve—but he was a bit too brain-dead to care.  
  
It was Dean who broke the silence again. “So.”  
  
“So.”  
  
“I really am sorry about the itching powder. And, uh, the fire.”  
  
“Why does your solution always involve burning stuff, anyway?”  
  
“Aw, c’mon. It was fun, admit it.”  
  
“Yeah, being almost trapped in a burning house was a barrel of laughs,” Sam said grumpily. But his hand was still intertwined with Dean’s, and he really wasn’t planning on moving it.  
  
“When the hell are the nerds comin’ out? I wanna get back to the motel.”  
  
“Why, so you can play king of the world in that ridiculous chair again?” Sam snorted. “You’ve got issues, man.”  
  
“What are you talking about? This is all about you.” Dean reached over and stroked a hand down Sam’s stomach. “I gotta get those splinters out of your ass.”  
  
Sam suddenly remembered what Dean had said after the splinter remark. His ears turned bright red, but he managed to grin and say, “Hey, Dean?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I _dare_ you to try to fuck me in the ass when we get back.”  
  
Dean burst out laughing and hooked a leg over Sam’s. He dropped a kiss on the younger man’s lips—and to both their surprise, Sam leaned into it.  
  
Dean’s eyes held what could only be described as a devilish glint when he lowered his mouth to Sam’s ear and whispered, “You’re on.”  
  
|~|~|


End file.
